


static

by c0nstruct_out_of_reach



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: FUCK, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Probably ooc, Simon Dies at Stratford Tower (Detroit: Become Human), This Is STUPID, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Was I Thinking?, au if you squint and/or know the rooftop scene by heart, either way simon is gay for markus and you can fight me, he's dead, i dont even know what im doing, i think im going to regret this when i wake up, its 1 in the morning im tired, like my soul, no beta we die like men, rewrite i guess?, simarkus if you prefer to read it that way, thank you ao3 for the automatic tags this sums it up well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16917792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c0nstruct_out_of_reach/pseuds/c0nstruct_out_of_reach
Summary: It’s quiet except the whistling snow and the banging on the door and the whirring and sizzling from him—Simon opens his eyes, and it takes a second for him to put the gun aimed at his head into focus.“I’m sorry, Simon.”





	static

**Author's Note:**

> hi i like simon   
> so naturally i rewrite a death scene from his perspective and make him distraught

The world spins and heaves with static as Simon collapses. He hits something hard, something sturdy, and it keeps him up while the surroundings try to stabilize. His legs feel like they’re made of tons of lead instead of the sparking, marred plastimetal they are. The holes ripped into his body spit and glint, and it _burns,_ red hot and screaming and he only sees a blur of Markus kneeling in front of him.

“I... I can’t move my legs.” It’s wavering, shaky, and Simon’s head lolls a bit to the side while Markus’s eyes flit over him. Simon’s starting to focus a bit more now that he’s not forcing himself to move, and he sees every crease in his face quiver.

“Okay, don’t worry! We’re gonna get you back…”

It’s hard to grasp, the idea of “getting back”, but he still manages a glass smile, a pathetic attempt to console, before North’s pressing them.

“They’re coming, Markus. We have to jump now!”

Simon clenches his eyes shut as Markus stands and leaves his side. The harsh exhalation doesn’t pass over his head, and he locks his jaw and clutches his pant leg. Josh is talking now, truths that threaten to shatter the promise of going back home and he reaches out and tightly holds the fragments of it to his stuttering thirium pump with all the strength he can pull together.

“He won’t be able to make the jump… If they find him, they’ll access his memory—they’ll know everything.”

No.

“We can’t leave him behind. We have to shoot him.”

_No._

“That’s murder! We can’t kill him! He’s one of us!”

_Don’t do it_

“Markus, it’s your call.”

_Please_

They go quiet; it’s quiet except the whistling snow and the banging on the door and the whirring and sizzling from him—Simon opens his eyes, and it takes a second for him to put the gun aimed at his head into focus.

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

_markus please_

“I don’t have a choice.”

_PLEASE_

“There’s always a choice.” He shoots it back promptly, voice quavering and shaking and he’s _shaking_ and the gun’s shaking and he’s cutting out and—

The gun’s being pressed into his dark blue hands by something fleetingly warm and then it’s gone and _he wants it back_.

“I won’t kill one of our own.”

_thank you_

“Let’s go!”

_wait_

_wait no—_

Simon’s slick fingers slip to clutch the weapon, pushing it against his chest and he’s fighting to breathe, in and out, in and out. In and out in and out in and out and he hears them unpacking the parachutes and _shit_ he has to _go—_

He throws himself to the side, struggling to hold the gun while making progress and they’re _coming_ and where is he even _going?_

Through the static, he makes out a door of some kind and he blindly goes for it, scrabbling and reaching out and wrenching it open.

Dragging himself into the crowded cramped space is one of the most agonizing things he’s ever experienced.

Second only to Markus holding a gun at his head.

//

Slipping in and out of stasis, Simon’s aware of what has to be police and SWAT swarming the area. He stays silent as much as he can; it’s not like he can really move anyway.

\\\

He wrestles his hand up from the deviant hunter’s grasp, pooling all the last dregs of power he has left to raise the gun.

_He can’t let him—them—he can’t—_

Simon's heart jolts one last terrified time as it all goes black.


End file.
